


Speak Up Before It's Too Late

by MissMR



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Clarke Griffin & John Murphy Friendship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Minor Becho, and bellamy doesnt let her go, clarke runs away, happy/hopeful ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:07:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22142281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMR/pseuds/MissMR
Summary: “Actually, Clarke,” Bellamy started, and she looked up at the sound of her name, meeting his warm brown eyes and ignoring the flutter in her stomach, “I wanted to ask you something before everyone else got here.”She felt Raven reach for her hand under the table, and Clarke glanced at her to see Raven sending her a sad smile. Raven Reyes doesn’t sad smile for any reason, so Clarke knew Raven knew something was up—something that had potential to shatter Clarke more than the news of the engagement.“What is it?”“Well, you’re my best friend, and I wanted to know if you’ll be my best man,” he shook his head, “best woman.” He smiled at her, and it usually did funny things to her, but his words seemed to suck the air out of her.(Or, Bellamy asks Clarke to be his best man at his and Echo's wedding, but instead, she drunkenly confession how she really feels).
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 292
Collections: Bellarke January Joy 2020





	Speak Up Before It's Too Late

It wasn’t a secret that Clarke was in love with Bellamy. Everyone that wasn’t Bellamy knew about Clarke’s feelings. She either drunkenly confessed to a few friends (and the next morning begged them to keep her confession a secret), or they saw the way she gazed at him. There were times Clarke had wanted to rip the band-aid off and tell Bellamy. One night she had come close.

He had come over to her place for their weekly movie night. He was wearing his thick black frame glasses, and it looked like he did nothing to calm his curls (which was her favorite). He had on sweatpants and an old Arkadia University t-shirt that always rose up when he reached for a glass on the top shelf, and Clarke was able to get a glimpse of his v line that peeked out. She always chastised herself later for it, but in the moment, she never denied herself a quick look.

That night she had a glass or two of wine, nothing different from other movie nights, but he smiled at her and Clarke saw the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes and she felt her heart glow. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. It’s different drunkenly telling her friends she was in love with Bellamy, but she couldn’t tell Bellamy. There were too many repercussions if he didn’t feel the same way, and Clarke was sober enough to know that.

So, she stayed quiet.

She’ll probably regret that for the rest of her life because now she sits across Echo and Bellamy trying to ignore the flashing diamond ring on Echo’s finger.

“You alright?” Raven whispered to her, and Clarke nodded.

“Just tired.”

Clarke wished she had opted out of Thirsty Thursday. The news of the engagement was still fresh which meant it still hurt (Clarke didn’t think it would ever stop hurting), but she was here and there was no way she could just leave, considering it had only started and no one has shown up yet.

“How’s your painting coming along?” Bellamy asked, and Clarke stirred her Jack and Coke.

Not looking up from her drink, she said, “It’s on pause for now. Something’s missing, and I can’t figure it out yet.”

“Isn’t your deadline in a few weeks?” Echo piped in, and Clarke looked up ready to snap. It was a mixture of being stressed about the unfinished pieced in her living room and Echo being the one to ask it. (Clarke knew her irrational feelings towards Echo had every bit to do with Echo and Bellamy being together. She knew she was jealous, and she hated every bit of it.)

“It is, but she’ll get it done,” Bellamy said smiling at her, and Clarke looked back down at her drink because she knew the smile that she reserved for Bellamy (the smile that shouted her feelings) was seconds away from spreading across her lips.

“Actually, Clarke,” Bellamy started, and she looked up at the sound of her name, meeting his warm brown eyes and ignoring the flutter in her stomach, “I wanted to ask you something before everyone else got here.”

She felt Raven reach for her hand under the table, and Clarke glanced at her to see Raven sending her a sad smile. Raven Reyes doesn’t sad smile for any reason, so Clarke knew Raven knew something was up—something that had potential to shatter Clarke more than the news of the engagement.

“What is it?”

“Well, you’re my best friend, and I wanted to know if you’ll be my best man,” he shook his head, “best woman.” He smiled at her, and it usually did funny things to her, but his words seemed to suck the air out of her.

She tightened her hold on Raven’s hand. She would say yes because it was Bellamy, and she would do anything for Bellamy. But before she was able to give her his answer, his phone rang.

“It’s O,” he unwrapped his arm from around Echo’s shoulder, and Clarke felt like she could breathe a little easier. “I’ll be right back.”

“He was so excited to ask you.” Echo smiled at her, and Clarke noted Echo’s smiles never quite reached her eyes when it was directed at her. Clarke knew the reason why.

Echo was amongst everyone who knew Clarke’s feelings for Bellamy.

Although Echo never outright said anything to her, Clarke knew she did. It was the way Echo looked at Clarke before kissing Bellamy, or the way she always managed to call Bellamy away if he and Clarke were alone together for too long.

Clarke pursed her lips together then downed the rest of her drink. “I need another one.” She slid out of the booth, and when Raven asked if Clarke wanted her to come with.

Clarke shook her head.

It was going to be a long night no matter how many drinks she had.

* * *

Clarke had managed to stay away for a little over an over. The bar was overly packed for a Thursday. The music seemed louder, and the line of visibility that was usually there from the corner booth her friends claimed all those years ago to the bar was blocked by bodies. But Clarke didn’t mind any of these things.

The drinks were making her body warm, and her mind might have been a little clouded with the three (she was halfway through her fourth) drinks she had made her way through.

News of what Bellamy had asked her was probably circling around the table, no doubt with Echo’s help. She knew it was a matter of minutes before someone came looking for her. She had no idea who no one had come looking for her, but she was pretty certain she could probably thank Raven for that.

She finished off the last of her drink when she felt the soft touch on her shoulder, and she looked over her shoulder to meet blue eyes looking at her with sadness and she scoffed. She hated pity, but she definitely hated it from John fucking Murphy.

“Hey.” She turned back to the bar just as her new drink was set in front of her. “I was wondering when someone was going to come looking for me.” She heard her own words slur together in a mess. She was feeling it more than she thought.

“Well, Raven kept us all at the table. She practically had to threaten Bellamy to stay put. Anyways, what number is that?” Murphy gestured to her new drink and wedged himself between her stool and the occupied stool next to her, ignoring the glare for the guy in an overly priced suit as he angled his body towards her.

“Five.” She nudged her head towards the table where all their friends were, “You hear the news?” 

“Yeah. Echo said it would be exciting for Bellamy to have his best friend, and I was like well why didn’t he ask me.” Murphy grinned, probably hoping to get a laugh out of Clarke, but he only got a tight lip smile. “You know you can say no.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows.

“Okay, I know you won’t. You’d never say no to Bellamy, but you can. No one would blame you if you did.”

“Yeah, except him.” She took a sip. “I’m going to say yes, but I needed a night to feel sorry for myself.”

Clarke didn’t look at Murphy. She only had eyes for her drink, but she felt his eyes boring into her. Clarke wasn’t sure what he expected from her to do. Everyone always told her to look out for herself, that it was okay to be selfish, but she couldn’t choose this moment because it would interfere with Bellamy’s big day. If he wanted her standing next to him, while he wore a black tux that would undeniably make him more handsome, when he married the woman that he loved, then she would do it (no matter how much she wanted to be the woman that was saying I do with him).

Murphy waved over the bartender. “Can I get two shots of the strongest thing you have?” Clarke smiled sheepishly at him. “You need it.”

There was no word exchanged between them. The only sound was the liveness of the bar—the laughter of the people around them, the music thumping through the bar, drink orders being placed. Everyone was happy, but Clarke felt none of it.

When the shots were set in front of them, the two friends clinked glasses before they each threw the shot back. Clarke chased hers with her mixed drink.

“Do you think they’ll be mad if I leave?”

“Honestly, they’ll be disappointed but they’ll understand. Bellamy on the other hand.”

“He’ll be fine. He has Echo.” She took one last drink before pushing her glass away, leaving a little less than half.

She stood up and grabbed onto Murphy when she stumbled.

“I’ll help you get home.”

“I’m fine. Go enjoy your night. Just tell everyone Wells called and needed me.”

“I don’t think so, Griffin. Let’s just go say bye, and—”

“No,” Clarke cut him off. “If I go over there, Bellamy is going to want an answer. I can’t do that tonight. I’ll, I’ll just wait outside.” Murphy gave her a pointed look, but she ignored it and weaved her way through the crowd.

The cold January air hits her face, but the alcohol in her system kept her warm. She leaned against the cold brink wall. Her eyes closed and she enjoyed the wind that blew her hair across her face and tickled her cheek.

For a moment, she could pretend she was the only person on the planet. It would be a lonely life, but maybe if she was the only person, she wouldn’t feel the ache in her chest.

“You were going to leave without saying goodbye.” Clarke jumped at the sound of the voice, but it wasn’t because she was caught off guard it was because of who the voice belonged to.

“Bellamy, yeah, sorry.” She pushed herself off the wall and teetered a little on her feet, and Bellamy reached out to steady her.

She didn’t understand why he had to grab her waist. He could have easily grabbed her shoulder or arm, anything that wasn’t so intimate. She wanted to yell at him. This wasn’t a way a friend held another friend. If Echo saw this, she would have rushed over and whisked Bellamy away.

It wasn’t that he was doing it intentionally. She knew he wasn’t because it was just the way they were with one another, but the more he acted like this the more she felt her insides jump with excitement, and the more she desperately wanted to be around him but also wanting to get as far away as possible.

He chuckled and smirked down at her, and her heart pounded in her chest. She could easily blame it on the five drinks and one shot she had, but she knew it had everything to do with Bellamy’s damn smile.

“You drank quite a bit tonight, didn’t you?”

She hiccupped (her telltale sign that she was definitely a little drunk), and this only made him laugh more.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Bellamy lightly squeezed her sides, and tingles ran through her body. She was enjoying the warmth his hands provided, and she knew it was wrong, so she stepped back.

“You know, I thought we’d at least have a drink together to celebrate you being my best woman, but you were gone when I came back to the table.” That forced smile that she has been sending everyone tonight made another appearance. “But you’re going to, right?”

Clarke opened her mouth to say yes because there wasn’t another possible answer. Clarke wouldn’t miss one of the most important days of Bellamy’s life, no matter what part she had in the day. But when she found her voice, “no” shot out.

The smile that was plastered across Bellamy’s face slowly slipped away, and Clarke held her breath.

“Ha, ha. Funny.”

His eyes searched her face for any signs of a joke, but he must have not found any.

“You aren’t joking. Why not Clarke?” He stepped forward, and Clarke took a tentative one back.

She stuck her hands in the pockets of her black leather jacket and pulled it tightly around herself. “I just can’t okay.”

“No, it’s not okay.” His voice raised, and Clarke knew it came from pain rather than anger. “I want my best friend up there with me, but she says she can’t and I want to know why.”

“Well, I can’t tell you.”

He scoffed. “That’s bullshit. I’m owed a reason.”

She shook her head. Her eyes stung with tears starting to form. “Please, Bellamy, let it go.”

“I’m not. So, what the hell is it Clarke?”

“Because I’m in love with you!”

The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them, and everything went silent. Even the loud pounding music coming from the bar as the door flung open. She had fantasized about the ways she would tell Bellamy how she truly felt about him.

It included being snuggled up on her couch on their movie night and her looking up just in time to see him looking down at her, and the confession would easily leave her lips. Or, on a Thirsty Thursday, after they had made sure everyone got home safe and it was just the two of them. He would walk with her to her apartment and he hugs her (but hold on longer than necessary because he always did when he hugged her) and she would whisper it for only him to ear because he was the only one who didn’t.

She never thought she would be shouting it at him while she was drunk because he couldn’t understand why she couldn’t stand by him while he married someone else. If he had just let her go into the night without needing to check on her, she would have happily (well fake happily) agreed to stand beside him. But if he did let her go without personally checking on her, he wouldn’t be the Bellamy that she loved.

He was gaping at her, and it was the first time she couldn’t decipher the way the look on his face. His brown eyes were focused on her with an intensity she wasn’t used to. It became too much, so she looked passed him and over his shoulder.

“Murphy,” Clarke blurted out, and he was looking at her with wide eyes. She knew he heard her.

Murphy cleared his throat and patted Bellamy’s back before he stepped beside Clarke. “I think it’s time to go. C’mon.” He threw his arm around Clarke’s shoulder. “I’m going to get her home.”

Bellamy blinked a few times pulling himself out of his trance. “Wait!” His eyes moved rapidly from Murphy to Clarke.

“Clarke,” he pleaded her name, and Clarke hid her face against Murphy’s chest.

“Not now, man.”

Murphy pulled Clarke with him as he turned around to walk away. She chanced a quick glance over her shoulder, and Bellamy was still there staring at them. She smiled sheepishly at him, and Murphy tightened his hold.

They walk for a few minutes before Clarke could find her voice again.

“Did I really just do that?”

“You did.”

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I, I ruined everything.” Clarke took a shaky breath. “He’s going to want to talk tomorrow.”

“Which means you’re going into hiding,” Murphy said it so casually, but she couldn’t blame him. It’s what she did. “So, where am I taking you?”

* * *

The next morning Clarke’s registered pretty quickly that she wasn’t in her bed, and it’s when everything from the night before came rushing back. A friendship, the most important friendship she had, was possibly ruined because of one too many drinks and an inability to keep one’s mouth closed.

She sat up too quickly, causing the room to spin. It didn’t help that her head was throbbing, and she could taste the staleness in her mouth.

Everything was ruined, and she wished she had at least drunk enough to where the night was erased from her mind. Instead, it seemed to play on a loop over and over again—her shouting _because I’m in love with you._

Clarke felt like a fucking idiot.

Once the room stilled, she dragged her feet across the floor. When she opened the bedroom door, she was hit with the smell of freshly made pancaked, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to throw up or scarf them down.

“How are you feeling this morning?”

She slid into a chair and dropped her head on top of the table. “Like I want to die, and not because I’m hungover. Well, that has a part in it but not really.” She sighed and threw her head back. “Murphy, what am I going to do?”

Clarke decided to just go home with Murphy last night. Wells was an hour away though Clarke knew Murphy would have driven her, and her mom’s house wasn’t an option considering a plane was needed to get there. Plus, she knew Murphy would buy her as much time as possible until she had to face Bellamy.

He poured the batter onto the griddle and turned to Clarke. “Talk to him. You can’t really ignore him. I can’t even ignore him. He’s already called me three times asking where I dropped you off because you weren’t home, and it’s barely 8. I lied and told him at Wells, then I called Wells to let him know I lied, and he said he’d cover for you.”

“How long do you think we have until he figures out you were lying?”

Murphy laughed and flipped the pancake. “Probably an hour or so. Bellamy will go over there, and Wells will say you just left, but we all know he’s shit at lying.”

“So, back to my question, what am I going to do?”

“First, you’re going to take a shower and brush your teeth. You fucking reek. There’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom and something you can take for the headache I’m sure you have. I’ll get you some clothes, and the food will be ready when you get out.”

If only her problems went away as easy as the filth from last night. Clarke stood under the showerhead and felt the hot water rain over her body. The water might have been a little too hot and her skin was sure to have a tint of red after, but it didn’t matter to her. As long as she stood in the shower, the longer she could put on the inevitable—talking to Bellamy. Although, she wasn’t sure what good it would do besides break her heart more than what it already was.

He was going to let her down gentle because Bellamy wouldn’t want to hurt her, even though him loving someone else did exactly that. Clarke didn’t want to listen to how Bellamy loved her, but only as his best friend. That was enough once upon a time, but now that Bellamy knew the extent of her feelings, him loving her as a friend wasn’t enough. She needed more, but she couldn’t have that. So, maybe she needed to distance herself from him. She turned the water off and dressed in the sweats and t-shirt Murphy gave her and brushed her teeth after she took a two Advil.

When Clarke opened the bathroom door, she was paralyzed by a voice. Just like outside the bar last night, she’d recognize it anywhere.

“You fucking lied to me.” She heard the door slam shut.

“Yeah, I know. I’d thought I’d give her some time. How are you even here?”

“I was halfway to Wells when I called him. He really needs to learn to lie. So, where is she, Murphy?”

It was now or never.

Clarke took a deep breath and slowly released it before she stepped out into the front room.

“Hey Bellamy,” she practically whispered, and his eyes found her almost immediately.

“I’m going to be anywhere but here.” Murphy slipped on a pair of shoes that were near the front door. His eyes met Clarke’s and he mouthed _you can do this_ before he slipped out the front door, leaving Bellamy and Clarke alone.

Clarke couldn’t remember the last time there was a tense awkward moment between her and Bellamy. Those were supposed to be behind them, along with all the arguing and name calling. But as she stands there under his gaze, Clarke was practically begging for him to yell at her or say something. She was pretty certain he was frustrated with her, and she wouldn’t blame him. It was selfish of her to drop something like that on him.

And, now she owed him a talk.

“I’m guessing you’re here because of what I said last night.” Clarke dropped herself onto Murphy’s couch, choosing to sit in one corner and hoping Bellamy would sit in the other—which he did.

“We should talk about it.”

Clarke wrung her hands. “I was drunk.” She knew it was a cop out. “Let’s forget I said anything.”

“Clarke.” Her name sounded just like it did last night.

“Look, you want me to be your best man, woman whatever, and I’ll do it, okay? Just please, let’s forget last night happened.”

She dared to look at Bellamy, and she noticed his hair looked like it did whenever he crammed for finals and barely had time to comb it the next morning. It looked oily like he ran his rings through it one too many times.

“What, what if I can’t forget it?”

“You need to try.”

Bellamy inched closer, and Clarke pressed herself further into the arm of the couch. He wasn’t going to make this easy on her.

“I tried all night.”

“Try harder, Bellamy. It was—”

“How long?” he cut her off.

“How long what?”

“How long have you lov-had feelings for me?”

She sighed. “It doesn’t matter.” Because it didn’t. She could have started loving him six months ago, and they would still be in the same situation because she still wouldn’t have said anything.

In reality, though, she has loved him for the past six years. It started when she saw how he would do anything for people who he cared about. Even if that involved working himself into exhaustion. He’d give and give and expect nothing in return. It was one of the most admirable things about him, and one of the most frustrating.

“It does to me.” He took another inch and then another which caused Clarke to jump up.

“It shouldn’t! You’re engaged to Echo, or did you forget that? Whatever I tell you right now doesn’t change that!”

He looked at her for a second before looking anywhere that wasn’t her, and she hated how much that it hurt but she wasn’t surprised that it did.

“I don’t really know what you want me to say here, Bellamy.”

His eyes met here once again, and she saw that they were glossed over. “Did you mean it, Clarke?”

“Yes.”

The single word hung in the air between them. It was so final, and there was no going back. No denying it. Bellamy slowly rose from the couch, but he made no move to step closer to Clarke, and she was silently thanking him for that.

“I wish you would have said something.” He stepped towards Clarke. And she stayed frozen in her place.

“It wouldn’t have change anything.”

“It would have changed everything!” There was a conviction in his voice that made any response Clarke had die in her throat.

She couldn’t think about what he meant by that.

His eyes roamed over her face like he wanted to take in everything about her, like he was trying to remember what she looked like. Brown met blue. They’ve always been able to communicate without words, but at this moment, Clarke couldn’t bring herself to make any assumption about what this look meant.

“I never knew I could choose you,” he whispered, and pain etched across Bellamy’s face. This was what sent the first tears down Clarke’s cheek, and she rushed to wipe them away. She didn’t want him to, more importantly, she didn’t want to be disappointed if he didn’t even try to. It was a bad idea to think she could do this.

“I think you should leave.” Her voice didn’t sound like her. She sounded small and scared.

He shuffled closer.

“Clarke.” The pleading in his voice was back, and she shook her head.

“I can’t right now. I know, I know I started all of this because of what I said, but I can’t. Not now.”

“Then when?”

She bit the inside of her cheek and avoided meeting his eyes. She wanted to say never because nothing was going to change. No matter what his words may have implied none of it mattered.

He loved Echo.

He was engaged to Echo.

He was going to marry Echo.

He was going to start a life with Echo.

She swallowed all of that down and forced what was meant to be a smile on her lips, but it didn’t stop her bottom lip from trembling.

“I don’t know. Just not now.”

He nodded. “Okay.” Bellamy walked to the front door and with his hand on doorknob and back to Clarke he said, “You’re going to disappear for a bit, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” she cried out.

With no other words exchanged, he walked out the door.

She wanted to sob. It was building in her throat and threatened to spill out as soon as the door closed, but she had already cried so much in the past about things regarding Bellamy. More tears weren’t going to solve anything.

So, she did the only thing she knew that would.

She’d run.

Without thinking, she searched for her phone and sent a text before she could process what she was doing. And in less than a minute, her phone _binged_ with a notification.

**Wells 10:11am**

**Of course. The guest room is  
ready for you. See you soon.**

* * *

It’s been almost two weeks since Clarke packed a bag and drove the hour to Wells’ house. She had sent a text out to her friends that simply said _‘going to be gone for a while to finish the painting. hoping a change of scenery will help’._ No one needed to know her painting was still at home and still unfinished, but it was enough to keep most of them at bay so they wouldn’t hound her with messages. Well everyone that wasn’t Murphy and Raven with the occasional text from Octavia.

Murphy’s were a mixture of checking in on her or trying to make her laugh. She appreciated him keeping everything to himself because if he hadn’t there was no way her phone would have been so silent. He had made it his duty to text or call her every day, and he made it very clear that he wasn’t going to let her ignore everyone back home because when she refused to answer back, he made the drive to Wells’ house.

Raven on the other day assumed she disappeared because of what Bellamy asked her that night in the bar, and there was no way Clarke was going to correct her. She didn’t need another person telling her to talk to Bellamy, that her feelings out in the open could change things—she had Murphy and Wells for that. But Raven still texted her every day to make sure she wasn’t too down on herself.

Neither one mentioned Bellamy, and she didn’t know how to feel about it. A piece of her was relieved while another part was upset about it but was too stubborn to ask.

However, Octavia had no problem mentioning her brother. That was the only thing her texts consisted of.

Octavia’s messages came every other day, and the messages varied from ‘ _what happened between you and Bell?’_ , _‘can you please talk to him? he’s moping around and we can’t fix him.’_ , and her favorite _‘I don’t know what the hell happened Clarke but you need to fix it.’_ If only Octavia knew that being away from Bellamy was the only way Clarke knew how to fix what she did.

She was in the middle of alphabetizing Wells’ record collection when she heard Wells opening the front door, and she listened to the pitter-patter of his footsteps until he found her in his living room. He took one look at her and groaned.

“I see you're organizing my already organized records.”

“What are you talking about? They were a mess,” she snickered. 

Wells loosened his tie. “They weren’t. Not to me, but it’s fine.”

Clarke had slid the record in her hand into place on the shelf. “Sorry. I just wanted to keep busy.”

He sighed. “I know, but maybe you shouldn’t. You can’t make Bellamy forget that you said you were in love with him.”

Clarke crossed her arms across her chest. Up until now, Wells had been silent about everything since the afternoon she arrived. He took her in his arms as soon as he saw her, he didn’t dare utter Bellamy’s name.

It was like an unspoken rule that came into existence probably because Wells knew the extent of Clarke’s feeling for Bellamy. He was the first person she willingly admitted it to (with no influence from alcohol). He listened to her bitch and complain every single time Bellamy brought a girl around or went home with a girl, and he listened to her cry when Bellamy broke the news that he was going to propose. So, Clarke was more than a little taken back with Wells right now.

“Where is this coming from?”

“I just think it’s time, Clarke.”

“I’m not buying it.” She uncrossed her arms, and Wells fidgeted with the cuffs of his sleeve. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, too quickly.

“Wells,” she said sternly, like a mother scolding her child.

He stepped closer with his hands raised. “Before you get mad, I couldn’t do anything to stop him.”

“Stop who?” Her heart dropped because she already knew. She knew something was happening the moment Wells said Bellamy’s name.

“Bellamy’s on his way here,” he blurted out.

“What?” Clarke shrieked.

“I couldn’t stop him. He said you already missed one movie night, and you weren’t allowed to miss another. He called so I could warn you, and I told him I wouldn’t stop you if you tried to leave. And, I’m not.”

To prove he meant it, Wells stepped to the side to make room if Clarke decided to rush to the guest bedroom and start throwing all her stuff in her bags and leave.

“But I’m hoping you stay and talk to him. Not for him, but for you. I know you think what you said doesn’t change anything, but I’m telling you, Clarke, you’re completely wrong.”

Wells placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m going to change and leave in case you decide to wait for him, but if you decide to leave, you should hurry. He called about half an hour ago, and I’m betting he’s speeding over here. It’s your choice.”

Wells squeezed her shoulder before letting go, and Clarke watched him disappear around the corner. It would be easy to run. She did it once, so she could do it again, and this time she could leave to her mom’s house. Her mom would be happy to see her and would let her stay for however long she needed or wanted to, and that was the dangerous part.

Clarke knew if no one pushed her to talk to Bellamy, she would keep putting it off until it was possibly too late. Until he resented her for abandoning him, and she wouldn’t be able to live with that.

She grabbed the throw blanket from the couch and wrapped it around herself and stepped out onto the balcony into the cold air. The sun had just set, but the shy was still painted with hues of oranges and reds. It was the first thing her dad taught her how to paint when he was showing her how to blend colors together, and then it became the first thing Clarke showed Bellamy one night when they had had too many drinks on their Tuesday movie nights when he asked if she could show him how to be more artistic. It only ended with paint all over his hands and some on her face.

It was one of her favorite nights with him, and the picture the took that night with them still covered in paint was framed and hanging in her living room.

She jumped when there was a sound of the doorbell rang throughout the front door, and she had to tell herself to breathe. There was no more time to run even if she wanted to.

“I’ll get it,” Wells called out to her.

She thought about staying outside, but it would be dark soon, and she wanted to see his face, see the shine in his brown eyes that were always there. She missed him these past two weeks. It was the longest they’ve gone without talking or seeing each other since they came into each other’s lives. Even when they weren’t exactly friends, they were still always around each other.

She wanted to see him.

Once she was inside, she chose to sit in the armchair because it would stop Bellamy from shuffling closer. At least that’s what she hoped. She tucked her legs underneath her and silently told her heart to slow down, but it wouldn’t listen.

The footsteps seemed to echo from down the fall, and for a second, she thought about hurrying into his arms, but she remembered she couldn’t do that. She wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to do that again. 

“So, I’ll be back later,” Wells said, but it sounded muffled because everything seemed to fade away once she saw Bellamy. She nodded at him so he knew she heard him, and he looked between Bellamy and Clarke before he left.

Bellamy stood there switching his weight from one foot to the other. There was an uneasiness between them, and it seemed like one bad move would send one of them running as far away from each other as possible, or one good move would send them propelling into each other’s arms.

He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping. There were bags under his eyes, and his air was pushed back like he hadn’t stopped running his hands through his hair since the morning he left Murphy’s apartment. He was dressed in a button up and jeans showing that he came here straight after work. Clarke was almost certain his students have had difficult several days because Bellamy tended to misdirect his frustration.

She hated that she did that to him.

“Is it okay if I sit?” his voice sounded like he hadn’t used it in days, and Clarke wondered if his throat felt as dry as hers did.

“Yea,” she cleared her throat, “yeah, of course.”

He timidly took a seat as far as possible from her, and Clarke knew he was trying to give her space because he was scared she was going to tell him to leave like she did last time, but something about the determination written on Bellamy’s face told her he wouldn’t leave this time even if she asked.

“What are you doing here, Bellamy?”

A wry grin spread across his lip, and he ran his hands through his hair. It was the third time he had done it since he came into her view. “Movie night.”

She shook her head. “Why are you really here?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He was frustrated, and Clarke reminded herself he had every right to be.

He deeply sighed. “I want to talk.”

“Bellamy, I already—”

“No,” he said abruptly. “I went to you last time hoping you would talk, and you wouldn’t. I accepted it, but this time you’re going to listen to me.”

Clarke pulled the blanket around herself. She was hoping it would shield her from whatever Bellamy was going to say, but she knew it wouldn’t.

He leaned forward, so his elbows were on his knees. His head dropped forward, and Clarke heard him take steady breaths.

“I, I don’t know what to say.” He lifted his head. “For so long, I never thought I had a chance with you. I had convinced myself that you only ever saw me as your best friend, and I was okay with that.” He shook his head, more to himself than to Clarke. “Okay, I wasn’t okay with it. But I made myself be because it seemed like it was the only way you were going to be apart of my life.”

“Clarke, how could you not have seen how I felt about you?” There was anguish in his voice, and she wanted to reach out for him, so instead, she fisted the blanket tighter.

“I wish you would have said something. I wish I would have said something.”

He didn’t have to say it. It screamed from in between the lines what he meant.

She looked down at her lap. She couldn’t see his face when he confirmed it. “I know. It’s too late.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Clarke’s head snapped up, that it was a possibility that she gave herself whiplash, and Bellamy took that as a sign to move closer.

“When you said that you’re in love with me, it changed everything for me, Clarke, because I’ve been in love with you for years. I just never knew it was okay to tell you that. I was more worried about preserving our friendship than telling you. I didn’t want to ruin us if you didn’t feel the same.”

Tears were sliding down Clarke’s cheek, but neither one move. Clarke was afraid if she did, she would break the spell of whatever was in the room that was making this conversation real. She still wasn’t sure if she was dreaming.

“But I know now, and Clarke nothing has changed for me. I thought, I thought I moved on. I thought I had no choice but to move on, and it makes me horrible for doing that to Echo. She didn’t deserve that, but what she absolutely doesn’t deserve is being engaged to someone that is in love with someone else. So, I broke it off. It makes me an asshole, but I couldn’t pretend you never said anything because I feel the same.”

He smiled, and his eyes were shiny with tears that would fall with a single blink. His eyes dropped to Clarke’s hands, and he reached across the open space and cupped the one closest to him with both of his.

“I’m in love with you, Clarke.” He blinked, and now both of them had trails of wetness slithering down their cheeks. “It’s not too late for you, right? Tell me I didn’t miss the window.”

The window would never be fully closed to Bellamy, and even if it did close, it would never be locked. He was it for her.

She surged forward and locked her arms around his neck, and she held him as close as she possibly could. When she buried her face in the nook of his neck, she smelled his cedarwood body wash. And, it felt like she was home. He stood up with her in his arms, and Clarke didn’t think she could ever let go.

“It’s not,” she said against his skin.

He pulled back enough, but he didn’t loosen the hold he had around her. “I’d always choose you, Clarke. It was always you.”

His eyes dropped to her lips, and she knew it was probably too soon. He was engaged and asking her to be his best woman not even two weeks ago, but she had waited for this moment for years. They could figure out how they were going to maneuver through the murky waters and storm that they were surely going to run into, but that was a problem for another time. So when Bellamy tucked his fingers under her chin to tilt her head up, she let him do it without a fight. And when his lips met hers, she knew everything they went through was worth it because it led them to this very moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos make my day!


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